Bone Collector
by pappion
Summary: Post-ep for the Limey, Beckett and Castle's relationship remains in turmoil, but a case of the worst kind intervenes, forcing them to face what they have with one another.
1. Prologue

**Post-ep for the Limey, Beckett and Castle's relationship remains in turmoil, but a case of the worst kind intervenes, forcing them to face what they have with one another.**

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**Prologue**

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I feel my love is floating in darkness, unseen by the eyes that own it. Then a voice pierces the black, confessing the eyes have seen, the heart just doesn't feel. Reality crashes down. I must escape with the last shred of dignity I possess. I thought there was a silent understanding, but I had read it wrong, written it to meet my own desires. In hearing the truth, a harsh, cold comprehension laughs in my face. She never felt the same way, never returned my feelings. Instead she chose to string me along, lie about it then confess her sins to a suspect.

In she prances the next day as if nothing happened, because she doesn't know, everything happened, everything wrong and my hearts not in it. Our banter and subtext broken, but not forgotten, never forgotten. The single coffee cup, held within my hands, trying to chase the cold and pain away, earns an eyebrow lift, a look of hurt, confusion. Now she sees it, the withdrawal she doesn't understand, but knows is there all the same.

Mother said it wasn't a switch I could flip, but I can damn well bury it, cover it with blondes, bimbos and flight attendants, anything but sex because they aren't her and she still holds my heart, no matter how hard I try to release it from her unrelenting grasp. I will always love her, despite my efforts to the contrary.

By the time the third consecutive lunch date arrives, Beckett sits slumped and broken in her chair, head in her hands, eyes stinging with unshed tears. I can't look back, must not feel, she's getting what she wants after-all, my love to crumble and dissipate so she doesn't have to deal with feelings she doesn't share, allowing us to remain friends and nothing more. So I walk out, without turning my head to see her sadness and confusion or the shared glare from Ryan and Esposito.


	2. Chapter 1 The Case

**1.**

**The Case**

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**Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.**

**Edgar Allan Poe**

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It's 4:00 a.m. A call at this time is never a good thing, not for the people who have to drag themselves from the warm confines of their bed, nor for the poor murdered soul it signifies.

Standing in a filthy alley, wedged between two odiferous dumpsters is not a good place to be at 4:00 a.m., but she guesses it's better than laying in a pool of your own blood, cold, frozen eyes staring into nothing as cops surround you, searching for clues. How did she get here, who was involved and what was done to her? It always starts the same way, the same questions. You can only hope it ends with closure as that's the only light in a case where the senseless loss of an innocent life is concerned.

Lanie, shaking her head while bent over the lifeless body of a young girl is not a good sign either. It instantly sends a shiver through her body, knowing Lanie is an experienced ME, if she's shaking her head it must be worse than normal. Things had been going too good lately… at least work wise, not personally. A series of cut and dry cases, wrapped up quickly with a nice neat bow of a confession. She figures it must be time for a hard one. Hopefully just hard to wrap up and not hard in the sense that it tears you apart inside as you're forced to face the lack of humanity in some people, staring into the soul of the devil as he stares back and smiles. The limp, lifeless form in front of her pleads for retribution. The arms are slit from wrist to elbow, the legs from knee to ankle, head turned at an odd angle. No, it's not shaping up to be a good day and since it's so early in the morning that leaves a lot of bad hours ahead.

"What do we have, Lanie?"

"Beckett, this is one of those even I have nightmares about. It appears she has been sexually assaulted and that's only the beginning. The radius bones are missing from both her arms and the tibia bones are missing from both her legs, cut out with precision, and the bleeding in the surrounding tissue indicates she was alive when the removal began. Her neck is broken, the vertebrae snapped, demonstrating strength and training. Some of her contusions are already scabbed over, meaning she was tortured for days before being killed. I'll have to get her back to the lab to determine much else, but taking into consideration the cold temperature, I'd have to say she's been dead about 4 hours, putting her TOD around midnight."

Looking around she sees the area appears to be lacking surveillance cameras. It's a deserted side alley so of course that makes sense. It just doesn't make her job any easier. The killer knew what he was doing, choosing a well secluded area for his dump.

Esposito approaches, stopping just in front of them. "We can check the videos Ryan is gathering from the street up ahead, hoping to catch something, anything suspicious, but it's a long shot."

"Ok, check the area for anyone who might have seen or heard anything. There are clubs only two blocks over and most of those don't shut down until at least 2:00 a.m. so perhaps someone was wondering the streets looking for their car or drugs or whatever around the time of our body dump. Castle and I will take the businesses on the opposite end and work our way back to you and Ryan, but most of the clubs won't be open for several more hours so we might have to conduct a more through sweep for witnesses a little later as well." _That is if Castle would stop playing with his phone long enough to get his head in the game. One of his odd theories would be appreciated right now. _

Coming up empty handed they all meet back at the precinct about the time they should normally be arriving to start their morning, even more desperate for coffee now than before, considering they've been working for four hours already and Castle arrived at the crime scene with only one cup in hand. _What is up with him?_

Lanie calls with news two hours later. Their vic is Carrie Walters, 23. She was reported missing 5 days ago, which confirms she was held and tortured for days before being killed and dumped. Her tissue shows no signs of freezing other than the chill of the night air and she has multiple lacerations all over her body as if someone took a sick pleasure in the build-up to her murder.

The surveillance video has turned up nothing of value so far and frustrations are running high with little evidence to add to the murder board other than the victim's name, age and date of kidnapping.

Her friends say she wasn't dating anyone and her mother says she was really happy about a new job opportunity, but she didn't know the details. It's the same old story, she watches the regret wash over for not being more involved in a loved ones life before it's too late.

Hours later a search of her credit card activity and phone records have shown nothing out of the ordinary. She apparently likes to stop at a little bakery around the corner from her apartment each morning and her favorite lunch destination is a café right across from her place of business. She has a gym membership, which indicates she's not out exercising alone in easy target areas for kidnappers. Nothing about her life indicates easy prey, meaning either she was chosen specifically or it's a simple wrong-place-wrong-time scenario and either way it makes for a very difficult trail to follow.

Castle leaves to go hang out with his daughter, having spent more time on his phone than aiding in the case. Her entire being is pulled in his direction as if by some unseen magnetic force as he walks out, but maybe it's good he leaves, the light in his eyes no longer dancing for her. It's tearing her up inside and she just can't fathom what caused his drastic and sudden behavior change, can't stand to look at him any more today with that fake smile plastered across his face. With nothing more to go on, the rest of the team wraps up about 8:00 so they can get an early start tomorrow, hopefully not as early as this morning.

Arriving at work the next morning, Beckett buries her head in the case file, trading between it and the mostly white whiteboard until Castle arrives, single coffee in hand, she's lost track of how many days it's been now. Everything within her deflates a little more.

"How did you sleep, Beckett?" Making small talk, but the sparkle in his eyes is still missing, perhaps chased away by her cowardice. The flicker of hope she was clinging to now crushed, shattered into tiny pieces at her feet as she tries to ignore the voice in her head telling her he's moved on. No, he didn't sleep it off, whatever _it_ is.

"Not great, but exhaustion won out in the end." She can do this; she can put all her focus on the task at hand. "I just can't wrap my head around this case. Either we have a series of complete coincidences or an extremely adept killer. There was no evidence on the body, no hairs or fingerprints, no cameras in the area…nothing."

"Something will come along. Just keep looking at what you have and perhaps something will pop." _We…what happened to we?_

His daily reassuring comments and their close brushes of shoulders, knees, fingers…always make her feel better, but they are nonexistent now. Their private language of the future offering the promises she had been clinging to as she chatted each week with Dr Burke, repairing herself one broken piece at a time for him... It's all missing now, burned out before it got a chance to consummate, leaving nothing but ash and desolation in it's wake. The thought sends a shooting pain through her system as she instinctually presses a hand to her scar.

The following day Beckett walks into the precinct just as Ryan is holding up a piece of paper containing the address of another crime scene with a similar MO. Immediately she gets a sick feeling in her gut.

The new vic, male, a 27 year old attorney out celebrating his most recent win in court with friends three nights ago then hasn't shown up for work since. Everyone knew something was wrong. His body becoming the subject of their next crime scene with his humerus and femurs missing only confirmed their suspicions.

Same MO, but this time there was a note that said, "Missed me again." Of course, there were no prints on the note, nothing special about the paper… another dead end for now, but why change his MO?

Two days later a third victim is lying atop Lanie's table, cold and battered. A woman missing 2 ribs from each side, 4 total. One body is murder, two could be a coincidence, but three is a serial killer. When Lanie tells the team there's 211 bones in the human body everyone looks a little green around the edges.

A few days later….

"Morning boys, got anything new?"

"Nope, sorry boss," holding up a stack of papers in his hand, "just reexamining all the evidence, or lack thereof for now." Lanie said she was working on some other tests and would let us know if they turned up anything.

Sighing at the apparent boredom she would face and the lack of existing leads, she quietly wonders where Castle is. Some days he still brings coffee, some not. It's been a hard week, but with Castle's coffee in hand at least her morning caffeine fix would make the frustration a little more bearable. She refuses to go to the break room and get her own, deciding she will hold out for his coffee, letting him know she's waiting on him, hopefully giving him a reason to keep showing up. No, the irony of the situation is not lost on her. She has to fix things, but she doesn't know how, she doesn't understand what she did to garner such a reaction from him, but with the case bearing down on her, along with Gates, there has been little time to deal with anything else. Sitting in front of the murder board, file folders in hand for each of the 3 victims, the pounding in her head from lack of caffeine forces her into awareness… an hour has passed with no sign of Castle. Weird she thought, he usually calls or texts if he isn't coming in, although, she can't blame him for skipping this horrendous case with little yield of evidence. She knows how bored he gets when forced to just sit around, but he usually proffers a crazy theory here and there, some proving to be quite helpful.

Finally the boys locate a gray van on the surveillance footage from the first victim, which is also seen in a video collected near the 3rd vic's dump site. They can only make out the first 2 plate numbers, but at least it gives them something to follow.

Beckett stares at the murder board. None of their victims are married and all were successful in their careers, but they appear to have nothing else in common. The teasing note was only found on one of them and it doesn't fit the profile of their killer, considering he hadn't left anything at all on or with his other victims. Every step forward seems to lead to two steps back.

"Yo, Beckett, when we ran the partial plate, attributing the other characteristics, color, make, model…another case file from the 7th precinct popped, same MO. Vic is young, successful and missing all the phalanges from both feet and hands. We started digging and the 6th has a file as well. Vic was missing the Fibulas and Ulnas. The 9th precinct has a vic missing the metacarpals and the 3rd has one missing it's clavicles."

With an indignant tone she huffs, "Why hasn't anyone put these cases together before now?"

"They are all different precincts and involve cases with little to no evidence to go on. The only thing that finally brought our attention to the case with the 7th precinct is they had a witness who saw a van with the same make and model as the one we found on two of our surveillance videos. They had obtained the last 2 plate numbers and flagged it in the system. When we searched for the same make and model with the first two 2 plate numbers it popped. From there we started checking each precinct or we wouldn't have put them all together either. Our perp is smart. By dumping the bodies in different precincts it took time to link them all together. Worse yet, there's also a case with the 2nd that is 10 years old, same MO, meaning this killer has been active for a while, allowing plenty of time to perfect his craft." Espo takes a long breath, knowing the circumstances of their case just infinitely worsened.

Ryan picks up where Espo left off, "The database search of vehicles came up with 5 possibilities. Two are no longer on the road, one went through the police impound lot last year and the other was totaled by their insurance company after a collision. Two others have been cleared, just leaving one possibility. Van is registered to one Ron Carnes. Runs a body shop just outside the SoHo area.

Grabbing her weapon from her desk, along with her Badge and jacket, she is already half way to the elevator as she says, "Let's go."

Falling in behind her, Ryan and Esposito ponder Castle's absence. "Castle's going to be bummed he missed this. Could be a huge takedown of a long time serial killer, one the city didn't even know it was facing." Beckett, ignoring the comment, keeps walking, trying to disregard the pain in her chest at the mention of his name. Espo glares at Ryan.

The body shop is empty, except for a gray van containing blood and a note… 'Nice try detective, Beckett.'

A sarcastic, "Great" escapes one of their mouths, but nothing further is said. Leaving the first note recorded in any of the cases and now this second one, along with multiple bodies suddenly showing up in the same jurisdiction…a taunting serial killer, things are going to get worse before they get better and they all know it, no need to further express what they're all thinking. And why would such a cautious serial killer, one who's been active, but off the radar of law enforcement for years, suddenly draw attention to himself? Is he bored?

To make bad matters worse, they discover Ron Carnes died three years prior so the name is just another dead end, a false identity used by a relentless, now taunting, serial killer. Their circumstances seem only to worsen by the day. They seriously need to catch a break on this one, and soon.

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**I live to hear from you guys. Reviews make me giddy.**


	3. Chapter 2 The Discovery

**Ch 2.**

**The Discovery**

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**I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in it's absolute effect – in terror.**

**Edgar Allan Poe**

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Sound asleep, Castle sits, head groggy as if coming off an all night bender, eyes stinging, hair damp, every muscle aching as a stiff pain radiates through his back, wrists and ankles. He's got to stop falling asleep in weird positions at his desk. _Wait, why do my ankles hurt?_ Trying to chase the fog from his sleep-addled mind he shakes his head. Wow, his mouth is as dry as cotton. _What did I do last night?_ _I don't recall going to a party. Don't think I had a wild date. _As his vision begins to clear, the familiar surroundings of his office fail to come into focus. In fact, he doesn't recognize the setting at all. Alarm bells begin sounding in his head as he becomes more coherent by the second, likely due to the adrenaline now coursing through his veins. After visually perusing his environment with more lucid eyes, his overly creative mind begins to process, scrutinizing every detail of what he quickly determines to be a very troublesome situation. The cotton taste in his mouth is actual cotton, a knot of fabric, forcing his jaw wide, stretched around his cheeks and tied at the back of his skull, tightly. His wrists are bound to the very uncomfortable chair he's currently occupying, his ankles tied in the same manner. Momentarily his thoughts wonder to how great it would be if Beckett had kidnapped him, but since that had about a 0% possibility of being true it's obvious he's dealing with something far from a fantasy. Wracking his brain he tries to lock in on the faded memories, grasping with slipping cognizance, unable to hold onto the faintest of visions. Perhaps it's the ache at the back of his head indicating he'd been knocked cold that's keeping him in his drowsy stupor and preventing memories from surfacing. _Well, this certainly isn't shaping up to be anything other than a dire situation._

The only light, a couple of single bulbs hanging from the ceiling and a few wall sconces, flickering as if containing candles, submerge his senses in mostly darkness, but he can see enough to determine he's in a large room, no windows so perhaps a basement. Cinder block walls surround him. A chill in the air with a coppery tinge floating on it has the hair at the nape of his neck standing at attention. _That can only mean one thing…blood._ A table stretches out before him, covered in what appears to be…bones? _Odd_. Focusing a little more clearly, the ones near the left end look dull and drab – _please don't let it be remnants of tattered flesh forming that patchwork of patterns_ - while the ones in the center appear bright white. But then the sound of buzzing flies penetrates his ears as he tries to block it out while simultaneously coming to the conclusion… someone is cleaning bones. _God I hope those are from a cattle-processing plant. _All of this, however, is not what finally earns his most intense analysis. The smaller table covered in very pointed, very sharp cutting tools of every size and shape, that's what has his writer's mind churning out one dreadful scenario after another. He really wishes he hadn't done so much research on knives for his Storm novels, learning how each one is designed with a different purpose in mind, giving it the capability of inflicting any number of varying injuries…including death. A positive outcome becomes less likely by the minute.

His head snaps up to the sound of a lock being slid back, drawing his full attention to a door about 20 feet away. As it swings open a small-framed man enters his line of sight. A wily sort, can't weigh much more than Beckett, if that, since he appears a little shorter, but the look in his dark eyes is purely savage, dangerous. As he approaches, Castle searches, but can't find any sign of humanity within those cold eyes, leaving a sinking feeling whirling in his gut as his skin starts to prickle in warning.

In a low voice laced with venom, "I see you're finally awake. I guess I hit you a little too hard… or perhaps your skull is just a little too weak for my purposes. I only accept the finest specimens you know?" Walking a wide circle around him, as if sizing up his prey, Castle suddenly feels the gag release as the man approaches from behind then backs away quickly to continue his circling.

While licking his lips in search of any moisture his mouth can produce, a voice sounding mysteriously like Beckett's pops into his head chanting, _keep him talking_.

"What exactly are your purposes?" _Specimens?_

"Oh, I guess you didn't exactly get the tour did you? Well, not awake anyway." A malicious snicker is heard around the room before he continues. "Perhaps I'll show you around before it's too late."

"To late for what?"

"So many questions, Mr. Castle."

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, and I know your detective friend as well."

Pure rage spills forth in his voice as he growls, "You stay away from her." His blood feels like it's burning through his veins as he thinks about those grimy hands touching his detective…well, maybe not his, but certainly not this freak's either.

Edging towards cockiness, "Oh I fully intend to keep my distance, at least right now anyway. I only took you to prove my skills worthy. You say she is the best so this is me, proving I'm better."

Castle begins tugging against his restraints, testing their limitations, looking for a point of weakness as anxiety becomes his foremost emotion, not just for him, but for Beckett as well. He doesn't want her becoming the next subject of his focus, especially since he will no longer be around to protect her by then. He finds the thought of her being in danger more distressing than whatever the creep is planning for him.

With quick steps & practiced fingers he replaces the gag from behind. Perhaps he can only hold his own against witty banter for so long. "You might as well relax, Mr. Castle. You aren't going anywhere. She will never find you in time…or at all." His shoulders shake with laughter. Preying on women and tying up his victims is likely the only way this barbarian has ever felt powerful.

His eyes widen as he watches his captor lovingly run the tip of his finger down one of the bones, a tender caress in passing as he circles around again. _What the hell was that about? _

As the small, but deadly man approaches Castle's front this time, the air turns acrid around him. Having little choice but to breathe through his nose since the gag filling his mouth prevents anything else, he finds himself forced to smell every last fragrant atom. He thinks back to the cartoons he watched with Alexis in her childhood and almost smiles as he remembers a green cloud following a decidedly aromatic character, but this cloud smells of death and destruction, not humor. Perhaps that means it should be a red cloud…he's not sure. Then suddenly it hits him like a slap to the face…this is the bone collector…so he'd been dubbed…the possible serial killer case Beckett's team has been working on. _Why didn't I pay more attention to the case? Oh yea, I was proving to myself I could get over Beckett and move on, but failing miserably. _Well, dire is no longer the best descriptor he can think of as several more pop into his mind…climacteric, exigent, calamity…and so on. This is the downside to being a writer and possessing an extensive vocabulary and colorful imagination. You can describe things in so many ways and in far too much detail. Perhaps he can pass the time by thinking about Beckett, his daughter, his mother, all the people he loves, keeping his focus on happier times while praying he gets to see them again, although he knows that possibility is slim at best. Having been distancing himself from Beckett he has inadvertently distanced himself from his protector and friend as well, talking with her less outside the office, she doesn't even know he's missing.

The last thing he sees is a rag being brought to his nose before the world around him dims. His feather light grasp on consciousness slipping and fading into blessed nothingness as his last thought fires through his synapses…_at least in unconsciousness I can't see or feel my captor, a beast light on bulk, but of ferocious aspect, preparing to deliver the final blow._

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Late that evening a chime from her phone draws her focus from the book in her lap. "Finally, Castle, where have you been?"

"Kate, it's me, Alexis. I take it that means my dad isn't with you?"

"No, sorry, Lex. I haven't seen him all day, nor have I heard from him."

"Detective, I think something's wrong. I haven't talked to him all day either. When I got up this morning I just assumed you had called him away on a case as he wasn't here fixing breakfast like usual, but when I got home this evening I checked his office and things seem a little out of place. There's a scotch glass on the floor along with his laptop and he's nowhere around. The brown leather sport's coat he wore yesterday is lying on his bed, meaning it wasn't slept in…and Kate, his phone is here. That thing is like an extra appendage. He never leaves here without it. I should have tried to touch base with him or look for him this morning before I left, but I just assumed…oh my god."

As Kate contemplates what time she last spoke with him she recalls texting him around 9:00 the night before, asking if he'd be in the next day and she received a reply right away saying most likely he would, direct and to the point, offering no guarantee, but a reply nonetheless. Realizing just now it seemed to be lacking his usual flare, although not that uncommon for him lately, her insides begin twisting and knotting. She hadn't put too much thought into his absence when he failed to show up at the precinct that day, he hadn't given her a guarantee he would and he hasn't exactly been himself lately. Wow, could someone else have used his phone or is he just so over her that he quit trying to make her smile… laugh?

"Alexis, calm down, but don't touch his phone."

"You're scaring me, detective."

"Try to think clearly, do you remember him saying anything about a book signing or a reading or anything like that?"

Yea, he had a signing yesterday evening. He was planning to go to Gram's play then remembered the signing, but he called afterwards, just as he was finishing up and leaving. Now it's Monday night, a full 24 hours later, and I just realized I haven't seen or spoken to him since. I was in bed when he got home after the signing because I had a test the next day. Then after school today I went to Paige's to study. If you haven't seen him today either then none of the people he's closest too have seen him in over 24 hours. Kate, I'm really freaked out. If he's not with you then wher…"

Cutting her off before she works herself further into a state of panic, "Let me call Paula and you call Gina. See if he had anything going on after the signing."

Her stomach, wrenching with spasms, the fear and concern for her partner and friend, hitting her hard. He may no longer care for her, but her feelings towards him haven't changed. Well, perhaps they have, but if anything they've only intensified since he started pulling away.

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Waking some time later with a throbbing headache pounding against his skull and blurry vision swimming in his eyes, he can faintly see the silhouette of the same vile man standing before him… well that and the vomitous aroma filling his nostrils. At least the gag seems to be hanging loose again.

Approaching Castle, knife in hand, an evil grin breaks across his face as he stops before him, closes his eyes, taking in, then letting out a long breath with a gleam in his eye. The sick bastard is enjoying this, getting off on it, his pulse pounding below the surface making it obvious. Drawing his hand from his pocket he produces a tape measure, the old kind used by seamstresses. Unrolling it he begins taking measurements, arms, legs, neck, skull… as if about to tailor a custom suit, but Castle has a feeling it's not clothing he's measuring for, the length of his bones being more likely at this point.

So quick Castle almost misses it, the knife swipes upward, deftly splitting his shirt without touching his skin.

With the same evil glare in his eyes he starts running the tip of the blade along Castle's skin, sliding over his neck, across his chest, down his arm, as if choosing where to begin. Evidently deciding, the flick of his wrist has Castle's watch falling to the floor, landing face down_. Damn that's an expensive watch. _

Perhaps he can buy some time, for what he doesn't know, but more time has to be better than less, considering he's at the mercy of a barbarian. "She's going to find you, you know? You've challenged the wrong detective. Once she sets her mind to something there's nothing that can stop her. Taking her partner was a mistake on your part… that is…unless getting caught was your plan all along." As he speaks, his overactive imagination almost begins to believe his own words.

"I've been successfully evading the police for 15 years, leaving no evidence, not a scrap to be followed. There's no way she can find me so just sit back and enjoy your little adventure…it will be your last after-all." A menacing smile curves his captor's lips, displaying a set of crooked and decaying teeth as Castle's veil of confidence from a moment before swiftly begins to transition into apprehension.

Not sure what he was dosed with, he can still feel his head spinning and throbbing as if detached from his shoulders. Wishing it would have had a powerful anesthetic in it, he braces for the pain to commence…and it does. The tip of the knife leaves a line of blood in it's wake as it slides with great vigor across his forearm then penetrates, gritting his teeth and holding his breath as if it will help him withstand the torment, making the slicing, stabbing sound of blood trickling agony more tolerable. Why he doesn't know, but his mind conjures a Nietzsche quote, _"__One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly."_ Not a comforting thought, but death might become a welcome friend compared to this. A groan escapes between clenched teeth, but he holds his guttural screams at bay with all his might, not willing to provide the maniac any further pleasure. Thanks to all that is holy he feels his consciousness fading - again.

Next time he awakens, his hazy mind struggles to form coherent thoughts, make sense of his discomfort as a gleam of silver catches his eye. Focusing with all his will, the butt of a knife becomes his focal point, protruding from his right arm in a Christ like fashion, effectively nailing him to his chair despite the fact his earlier bindings seem to have been severed with a new harsher means of restraint taking their place, his left arm a mirror image of his right. The now useless rope lies within a small blood pool near his feet, turning red before his eyes as he tries to focus on anything but the pain. He finds his body momentarily numb, almost hypnotized, as he watches the nylon absorb his life force. He vaguely wonders how long he's been here, how long he's been posing as a play toy for this psychopath. How much time he has left is probably the more pressing question as he hears the shuffling footsteps of his tormentor approaching once more.

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**Yes, I know it's more angst and case centered instead of my usual smut. Just thought I'd try something a little different, but it gets better...eventually. Always happy to hear from you, the readers.**


	4. Chapter 3 The Panic

**3.**

**The Panic**

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**Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.**

**Edgar Allan Poe**

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Gina confirmed the signing, saying he left around 8:00 that evening, mentioning nothing about going anywhere out of the ordinary.

Calling the boys, she alerts them to Castle's MIA status, asking them to run a trace on his other phone, the one he uses only for business, hoping he might have it on him since he was at a book event not long before going missing, but it was a waste of time. The trace showed the signal to be originating from within his loft, likely in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, the one Alexis mentioned lying across his bed, meaning he did make it home so what could have happened after that?

Around 7:00 a.m. a package about the size of a standard photo mailer is delivered to the precinct, Beckett's name clearly displayed on the front as it lands in her inbox, an officer apparently having signed for it while she was away from her desk.

Her head is beginning to spin as she rubs her temples for relief. No leads mean they are no closer to solving their case or Castle's whereabouts, the latter, she's ashamed to admit with regards to the victim's families, is her biggest concern. His daily use phone, having been left in his office was the first evidence to be tested, but it contained no foreign fingerprints. _Another dead end…oh god, don't say dead._ She can imagine, taking into account his actions of late, he might ignore her, but he would never ignore his daughter. Things are very wrong and every fiber of her being is screaming that fact over and over, creating a constant throbbing in her skull as she rubs her temples in what should be soothing circles, but offers no comfort.

Ryan approaches her desk with more bad news, nothing else has panned out and they are stuck without anything further to go on, the few strands of hope she was grasping onto, now dissipating along with her strength. Forcing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, she rubs, urging her brain into gear, a thought, a direction…anything. Looking up she sees Ryan staring at the pile of mail she has neglected for the past two days. His brow is furrowed in thought until his lips form a slight grin, asking who is sending her mail with smiley faces on it. She frowns as she follows his line of sight to the package on top. Equally curious of that fact she lifts it from it's resting place, turns it over, examining it with intense eyes. Grabbing a box cutter from her drawer she splits the thick cardboard, pulling out a single sheet of paper containing little square letters.

_I hope you got a chance to say_

_Before this time came, good day._

_Because he is soon gone_

_No longer for you to fawn._

_Such a finely shaped skull _

_Soon to be an empty hull._

_Don't bother wasting the time_

_Not to be found before the crime._

_I claim him now to be mine_

_Oh this day, so very divine. _

Her and Ryan's eyes snap to each other's, matching looks of horror meeting one another.

The loud and forceful, "Shit!" pulls Esposito's attention from his file, staring at his partner and boss, eyes flashing between their faces, immediately recognizing the terror within.

"What is it?"

They both remain frozen, their distress preventing them from speaking temporarily until Espo's raised voice brings them out of their daze. "Guys, what's going on?"

Turning to face his partner, Ryan stammers, "The Bone Collector….he's…ah….got…Castle."

Espo looks more white than they have ever seen the normally brown detective as the color blanches from his face, the meaning hitting him all at once, anxiety and despair overtaking his features as Beckett's look of revulsion sends her straight for the restroom, heels tap, tap, tapping as she goes, one hand covering her mouth, the other clutching her stomach.

The slamming of the door pushes the boys into action, Espo pulling on latex gloves, sliding the note and mailer into the clear sleeve evidence bag Ryan holds open. Grabbing it, Espo rushes off in the direction of the evidence lab. They aren't expecting the analysis to yield anything, but at least they feel as though they are in motion once again.

Entering the bullpen, looking a little damp at the forehead and peaked around the edges, Beckett starts… "Get the letter to…"

Ryan's voice breaks in, "Already on it, Beckett."

"Thanks and sorry about that. I just…"

"No worries, Beckett. We're going to figure this out. Just wish Castle was here to help."

Realizing what he said he drops his head as he heads to the murder board, afraid to say anything more, but needing to be doing something.

So quiet he almost misses it, "I agree, Ryan. It would make it better in so many ways."

Four hours later, having received less than nothing from the letter, her phone rings. She almost jumps from her seat when Castle's face flashes across her screen, but then she remembers, it's likely Alexis calling from their home phone. Making a mental note to change the photo to something distinguishing his home from his cell, she answers.

"I'm such an idiot." Lex's high-pitched, exasperated voice comes across the phone line.

"Alexis, I can't imagine a world where that would be true so you're going to have to explain that statement in a little more detail so I can catch up." She doesn't bother mentioning their most recent discovery to the girl with only one true parent.

"The watch he wears for special occasions, signings, promotional events etc…It's missing from his drawer and since he was just at a public event he may still be wearing it."

"Ok, but I'm still not following, Alexis." Brows furrowed in confusion as she attempts to decipher the girl's meaning.

"Detective, it's outlandishly expensive. When he bought it the clerk said losing it would be unbearable and it's one of the most commonly sought after by thieves because it carries such a high resale value. Would be muggers look for items of great value to be fenced before choosing their targets or something like that. He paid extra for the locator chip just in case. I'm saying it has a tracking device in it." Audibly gasping for air by the end, Beckett is pretty sure the girl relayed all that in one long sentence without taking a breath.

"Alexis, you're amazing. Can you fax me the paperwork?"

"Right away, just send me the number and it will be on it's way within seconds. Please hurry, detective. Please find my dad and bring him home."

Getting a warrant in record time for the company handling the tracking information, hope flares in her gut as she does the math, he's only been missing for a little over 40 hours and their evidence shows the other victims were kept alive for three to five days after being taken. His arrogance reveals no regards of capture so he likely won't accelerate his game. However, his little poem also mentioned _this day,_ which pushes her forward with a greater urgency than ever before, those two little words leaving no delusion of the potentially deadly outcome should she be tardy to this lunatic's most lethally planned finale.

* * *

Pulling up to the curb in front of the dilapidated old house, Beckett is practically out of the car before it comes to a full stop, running, hoping she's not too late. Esposito and Ryan are at her six, making sure she keeps her training ahead of her fear. They feel the concern for their friend as well, but understand Beckett is feeling it ten-fold. Although refusing to admit it, they know she cares for her partner deeply, a friend to all, but much more to her, despite the recent strain between them.

Knowing they are dealing with a serial killer they go for the stealthy approach rather than the loud kick-the-door-in procedure as not to send the killer into a panic and force his hand early… that is, if it's not already too late. Looking through the windows they can see the interior is in much better shape than the exterior, which is mostly in ruins, likely an effort to lessen the risk of drawing attention, but it was obviously once a grand estate. Twisting the knob it turns easily, swinging open with only a slight squeak. Stepping across the threshold they fan out, eyes searching, ears straining, but nothing comes. The entry area is immense, looking onto a double staircase leading to a stately landing overlooking from above. Pushing on with inaudible steps, a crystal chandelier comes into view, hanging from the center on a drop chain, producing subdued light, indicating the resident might be home. The foyer opens into 3 other spacious rooms, but it's the décor that earns their scrutiny… and trepidation. In the middle of the dining room to their left sits a glass top table, the artistically sculpted legs appear to mimic a colossal amount of osseous matter, perhaps that of an elephant or other large species. The glass top covers a recessed shadow box center with various bones spread out in circular formations. The centerpiece sits boastfully, a glass vase containing what appears to be a conglomerate of smaller bones, brightly painted and glowing from within as if embedded with a dozen fireflies. The color and lights reminding her of an old lava lamp might be pretty if not for the knowledge of what it really is and who it belongs too…not to mention the people who died in order for it's existence to come into being. The chandelier above is made of antlers…keeping with the theme of bone decor…wired together to form a circular design tapering downward and displaying a grouping of brightly shining lights. The wallpaper depicting fight scenes, swords and blood, she finds odd for a dining room, but, of course, they aren't in any aspect dealing with someone of rational thinking.

The room directly across from their current position appears to be an office as it draws them towards it, a masculine desk in the center, bookcases covering the walls, but the shelving around the top is what heeds their interest. Stationed about 18 inches down from the ornately carved ceiling tiles hangs a line of shelving containing consistently spaced skulls…human skulls…surrounding the room, colored light emitting from each orifice, creating an eerie scene as if decoration for a haunted house. Some with eyes glowing red, some green, others blue, but no power cords seem to connect them, indicating the room was designed with individual power outlets to meet each station. _Well that's premeditation at it's best._ She can't even bring herself to count them right now. The whole scene sends a chill up her spine as she spots the final piece of decor. Standing in the far corner, the only corner without book shelves, contained within an array of glowing black light, is a mostly erected skeleton, the kind you would see in an anatomy classroom…except this one consists of real bone…oh, and it's missing a key piece…the skull.

Curved walls lead to the entrance of the forward room, the staircases on either side opening onto the landing situated above the door. Stepping through reveals a kitchen, dried blood speckling the marble countertops, more drops marring the 18-inch tiles arranged in a diamond pattern covering the floor. A blender rests to one side of the sink, full of…god, let's not go there…The hair on their necks stands at attention, a warning to most, telling them to back away, but their job and Castle's life hanging in the balance forces their next step forward.

Officers checking the outbuildings find a table saw covered in blood and flies. Radioing in you can hear the disgust in their voices as they pass the news to Esposito who shares with Ryan and Beckett.

"Sounds like we have the right place." One of them states.

"Looks like it too," the other follows.

Approaching the counter they can see the sink is filled with a clear, but caustic smelling solution, a pile of bones soaking within, turning brighter white by the minute. Lying on the counter is a really nice watch, matching the description of Castle's. The band is severed and covered in blood.

Ryan's nose scrunches up in disgust, "Can I get an… ew?" Hand's indicating the sink in a Vanna White manner. "This guy could be the poster boy for any number of obsessive disorders."

"Yea bro, I'm gettin' some serious bad juju here. Nodding towards Castle's watch, Isn't that…?

He's cut off by Beckett who can't stand to hear the rest of that sentence, Castle's name being mentioned in conjunction with a blood soaked watch, his prized watch, the watch that led them there, possibly too late, is more than she can take.

A shredding pain rips loose within, something she hasn't felt before, but understands immediately. She loves him, she's in love with him and she's possibly waited too long… what if…it's too late, not only because of his withdrawal from her, but because he's…? What if he's gone, taken from her before she could find the courage to follow her heart? Knowing he was already pulling away only adds to her torment. Even if she's too late to claim his love she can't imagine her life without his bright smile, his constant attempt to comfort or help her even when she pushes him away and his friendship, at least his friendship. She needs to see the devotion and love he tries to hide behind his eyes, but often fails to accomplish. She just needs him, in every aspect. She has to find him, bring him back safe to his daughter, to her, and make things right.

Off the south end of the kitchen sits a recessed door, possibly leading to a walk-in pantry, but they've already cleared one pantry. With a silent twist of the knob, a staircase is revealed, each step leading downward, perhaps to a basement. With silent footfalls they descend, darkness encompassing them as they go. A chilly hallway with 2 doors, both steel, meets them at the bottom, lit only by wall sconces on each side, also made of bone, but with flickering candle light instead of colored incandescence.

The smell of death in the air raises the bile in their stomachs, acid burning their throats.

The first door is opened quietly, revealing a restaurant grade walk-in freezer, but the entry is padlocked. They will need bolt cutters, but honestly not in a hurry to find out what it contains they decide to see what's behind door number two. Sliding the lock on the adjacent door, an audible squeak reverberates around them. Looking to one another they silently count to three then nod, stepping through the opening, quietly, but with urgency.

* * *

**Thanks for sticking with me. I promise the next chapter gets better. Love to hear from you, as always.**


	5. Chapter 4 The Recovery

**4.**

**The Recovery**

* * *

**That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.**

**Edgar Allan Poe**

* * *

Another blow to the side of his face lands squarely, an attempt to snap his neck with such force as to break it. Thankfully not as effective as was intended, his assailant being the waif he is rather than the bulk he wishes he were. Another blow, another failed attempt, but that's ok, he has a back-up plan. A pulley rigged above, the type used to hoist an engine from a car, attached to Castle by the cold steel cable affixed firmly around his neck. It's not a hangman's noose, but it will be effective nonetheless. A knife in each arm, the one in his shoulder apparently not enough for this monster, so much blood lost, his head is fuzzy, in and out of consciousness, he struggles to keep his eyes open as a feeling of dread overcomes him, like a wildfire consuming everything in it's path. His arms and legs released from his previous bindings earlier in the day, but too late to take advantage now as the knives keep his arms rigidly secured to the chair. A button pressed, the hum of mechanical equipment set in motion, the makeshift noose becoming taught as his body ascends, the chair remaining attached. Gravity plays hell on the knives in his arms, fighting against the weight of the chair until gravity wins and it falls away, tearing flesh as it goes and leaving a shriek stuck in his throat. His soon to be murderer happily gaits out a door somewhere behind him after tying off the safety cable, laughing at his muffled screams as he fights for his life. Finding it difficult to breath, his hands flail at his neck in a vain attempt to free himself, trying to create enough of a gap between noose and esophagus to draw in a breath of life sustaining oxygen as his lips turn from purple to blue. Losing grasp on reality, again, all goes black as Esposito's foot lands in the chair below him, arms surrounding his upper thighs, pressing against his butt, supporting his weight so his neck is spared, hopefully leaving his hyoid intact.

Beckett rushes to cut the tied off safety cable, grabbing the first tool she comes too… a small pair of bolt cutters, ripped from her hands as the tension recoils, snapping a finger, but fear for her partner overrides her own discomfort as she races to assist Espo who's shakily lowering her partner to the ground, his arms giving out from supporting Castle's dead weight. Unfortunately, that location places him in his own blood pool as Espo gently lays his head against the cold damp concrete.

Castle lays, unmoving, covered in blood, looking like a ghost, before a table full of bones and blades, the ones used to cut and stab him…who knows how many times. She counts three still jutting from his body, but the coating of blood prevents her from determining the extent of the damage.

With eyes to big for her face you could clearly read the panic within. The fear preventing her legs from holding her upright as she takes in the entire savage scene before her, falling to her knees beside him, the shadows whispering things she can't bear to hear.

Calling out his name and grasping his cold hand she prays as the blue of his eyes remain hidden behind his unblinking lids. Ryan and Espo disperse, checking the room. There's no one in sight other than Castle, but the blood is fresh so the culprit can't be far.

Tenderly cupping the back of his head she lifts and removes the abhorred noose from around his maltreated neck. Grabbing his face, his head lolls lifelessly in her blood-shrouded hands. Placing forefingers to his neck she feels for a pulse, weak and thready, but present. She lets out a long held breath as she reaches for her phone to call for a medical team.

Interrupted before the call connects, an elated laugh penetrates their ears. Coming from a door at the back of the room, Ryan and Espo, guns at the ready, follow the overjoyed sound. The pocket door disappears into its slot with Ryan's fluid motion, opening to the sounds of tinkling water from behind a curtain…a shower perhaps. Whipping the curtain to the side, the tangy smell of blood almost gags them as a gangly form comes into view, dripping red as if washing in the blood, a pitcher held above his head, raining crimson. It wasn't water they heard trickling, it was pure hemoglobin, half a quart or so, at least. Along with the small pool under Castle they can surmise the danger he's in, him dying being a very real possibility. The suspect, now aware of their presence, tries to leap out the side in avoidance of Ryan's outstretched hand, but slipping on the blood, he crashes to the ground at their feet as Espo places his boot between his shoulder blades with an excess amount of pressure while Ryan slaps on the cuffs. He spits out, "How the hell did you find me? Where is that bitch? She's next on my list." Spraying droplets of blood from his lips with each word spoken.

"Oh, I don't think there will ever be a next on your list, not where you're going." Ryan gives him a condescending smile.

Beckett stays at Castle's side, calling for help as the boys deal with the suspect. Begging him to wake up, "I'm so sorry, Castle, I love you so much, please come back to me. I'm so, so sorry. I should have found you sooner. I should have been paying better attention to my partner."

Exiting the makeshift shower room, suspect in hand…gross doesn't even begin to cover it…the boys hear Beckett's pleas along with her confession and come to a halt, trying to offer her a modicum of privacy until she yells, "Where are they?" Just then a swarm of police and paramedics burst through the door, ready to offer backup where needed. The words: "officer down" sends them in a mad dash for Castle, coming to the aide of one of the city's own.

Handing off the suspect to one of the uniforms… just in time as the odiferous being was really starting to test his gag reflex… Espo reaches for Beckett, pulling her away with more force than one would think deemed necessary, allowing the paramedics access.

A scream echoes off the metal walls as his agony jerks him from his slumber. Too numb and in shock to comprehend it's his own vocal chords producing the sound, but a sound that will haunt Beckett for years to come. A siren wails as rubber crushes pavement in a race to the hospital. His body goes slack once more, face so pale, almost ashen from the blood loss. His subconscious vaguely wonders why there is so much noise as he jostles with the sway of the ambulance; cruelly trying to awaken him…he's just so tired.

Warm saline dampens his cheek as Beckett leans over him, whispering words of comfort, fingers carding his sweat-soaked locks. Her other hand caresses his cheek as she begs him to be ok and to come back to her, his skin clammy and cold to the touch, their role reversal not lost on her.

Two hours and multiple transfusions later, one thanks to her, who knew they were the same blood type, her head is woozy. They gave her a cookie, but she didn't think she could stomach it, deciding on a little rest as a much better and safer option for now.

* * *

He awakens to a fountain of brown splayed at his side, his hand warm beneath hers. He tries to sit up in an effort to get a better look at her, his left eye swollen from the beating, 9 stitches above it, many others making themselves known as they pull tight in his arms and shoulder. A stab of white-hot pain results, halting his actions as a muffled moan of anguish escapes his lips. Her head jerks up from its resting place on the edge of his bed, awake in an instant, eyes seeking his.

"Castle." His name comes out apprehensively.

"For a moment there, seeing you almost made me forget the horrors of death." His voice gruff with dryness, disuse and trauma as he forces the words into existence by way of a strained whisper. He's been out cold for twelve hours with color slowly leaching back into his cheeks, but he's still a little out of it.

"I do what I can." Trying for a smile, from him or her, she's not sure, maybe both. Just seeing his blue eyes is enough for now.

"Hey, Castle, good to see you no longer looking like a zombie." Castle hadn't even noticed Esposito until he spoke. Evidently Beckett wasn't aware of his presence either as her body whips around towards the sound. Turning his head gingerly, a wince of pain flashes over his features again as he closes his good eye momentarily to work through it. He then notices Ryan is there as well, completing their foursome.

"Hey guys." He manages, smiling cautiously to prevent further discomfort. Apparently his face is a mess. He wonders if it makes him look tough or just pathetic as Espo breaks him from his reverie.

"I've just got one thing to say, Castle. Don't ever make me touch your butt again."

This he can do even while somewhat groggy, banter is his specialty even if his voice is rough. "Oh come on, Espo, you can admit it. You know you enjoyed it just a little bit."

Ryan opening the door, "That's just wrong, man" as he exits while attempting to hold in the bubble of laughter threatening to spill from his lips at any moment. Espo departs the room right behind him, the door closing with a thud. Castle carefully turns back to Beckett.

They remain immersed in silence momentarily until she can't take it any longer. She's endured enough silence for a lifetime. "You know he's already like a mile from here by now, probably kissing some random girl in an attempt to erase that image from his head, so don't hold your breath for a reply."

His good eyebrow raises in slight confusion, "Honestly, Beckett, I have no idea what any of that was about." His voice remains barely above a whisper.

"Oh, he'll be crushed you don't remember his chest pressed to your crotch, arms wrapped tightly around your ass as he saved you from an almost broken neck." A teasing lilt to her tone, adding a little dramatic flare with her hands. Perhaps she's been hanging around his mother too much, he thinks, but then the memories begin to flood his senses.

A grimace forms quickly as the details of his ordeal begin flashing behind his eyes, visions, sounds, scents, knives, a noose...

Recognizing his torment, "Sorry, Castle. I didn't mean…"

"It's ok, Beckett. It's mostly my fault. I couldn't sit there dwelling any longer…I had to be in motion…the frustration became overwhelming. I shoved everything out of my way, hastily threw on my running gear and rushed out. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings and the case you guys were working maybe he wouldn't have gotten to me so easily. As I rounded the corner of my building he must have been waiting for me. I never saw him. An unexpected blow to the head and that was that."

"At least that explains your attire when we found you. I've been pondering that since I became capable of processing thoughts again. After hearing from the doctors you should be ok I just kept thinking sweats, Nikes and a t-shirt, really? Since when do you run and how did you survive without your phone? I'm not sure I've ever seen you without it."

"There's a lot you haven't seen lately, Beckett." Sarcasm, yep it's there, but she doesn't interrupt now that he seems willing to talk.

"I started running to clear my head and my phone just gets in the way. The fire shooting through my legs and arms, the thrumming of my heart, the steady breathing in and out, my pulse pounding in my ears…it helps me temporarily block out unwanted thoughts so I'm not constantly dwelling on…never mind. The phone wouldn't have mattered anyway. He was smart enough to have destroyed it and I was unconscious most of the time after that, well, in between the knives and torture…and…" He trails off as if the air needed to dispense the words runs out, his cheeks losing a little of the pink they had regained.

"I'm so sorry, Castle. I should have gotten to you sooner. If not for your watch and Alexis thinking about the tracking chip within it we wouldn't have made it in time. The boys are heading to pick her up now. We sent her to school because she had a test. Told her we'd be here for you."

He smiles at the thought of seeing his daughter since he wasn't sure he'd ever see her again. Can't help the little stroke of pride that washes over him, knowing his sweet intelligent daughter is responsible, at least in part, to him being alive. Didn't think he'd see Beckett again either, but then his face darkens as he remembers his partner never loved him and had just strung him along for months, playing on his faithful tendencies instead of just being honest. "Thanks for everything, but why are you here, Beckett?"

"My partner's in the hospital, where else would I be? And you need to finish that sentence…what are your trying to block out with your new exercise regimen? And running at night…alone…considering your profession and having shadowed a homicide detective for almost 4 years…what were you thinking?" She's exasperated.

"I wasn't thinking. Don't you get it? I don't want to think anymore. I have to move on and you're mot making it any easier right now. You don't have to stay. I'm sure you have better things to do and Alexis will be here soon to keep me company."

_Move one from what? Me? Us? Our partnership? Crap!_ Recognizing his same cold tone from the previous weeks a flash of pure, unequivocal hurt flashes over her face, but she pushes it down. He always came back when she pushed him away and now it's her turn to do the same, fight for what she wants, needs. She can't take this tension between them any longer, especially when she just wants to hold and comfort him right now and he seems hell-bent on throwing her out, discarding the past 4 years, years that have meant everything to her.

"Castle, you have to tell me what's wrong, what I did to make you distance yourself like you have been. You have to talk to me." She sounds sad, tired, scared even.

He matches her tone with an exhausted sigh, "I don't know what you mean. Apparently there is no _this_. You made that pretty clear with your silence for the past 7 months. Well, that is until…forget it…it doesn't matter now."

Clearly irritated with his attempt to once more brush their issues off and his continued refusal to explain what's going on with him, she snaps…because by God there is a _this, _something between themand she wants it, with every fiber of her being she craves it. Dr. Burke would be proud. "Castle, don't give me that crap. We know each other better than most anyone else and this isn't you. You don't run from things… and the blondes, the bimbos… at one time I thought that's who you were, but I know different now. You've got to talk to me, tell me how to fix this."

It's nothing, Beckett. Just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me again, jumbling your words until they spelt out what I wanted to hear.

"My words?"

"Yea, that day on the swings. I thought there was a chance for us, but I see now you were just sparing my feelings. You can't help that you don't feel the same way, Beckett. I just wish you would've been honest with me back then so I could have started trying to get over you and move on before investing another 7 months in delusive hope… not that it would have mattered… I've tried everything these past couple of weeks and no matter what I do or who I date or how far I run myself into the ground I just can't seem to get you out of my heart, but give me more time and I'll be able to just be your friend, help with cases and everything. I'll just go on hiatus for a while, heal body and soul, then come back renewed and ready to be what you need.

Beckett stands stunned in place until her fear of losing him kicks her brain into gear. "Castle, you have it all wrong. You are such an idi…"

Cutting her off as he cringes while pushing volume and a forcefulness, the likes she has never heard, into his voice, at least as much as he is able at this moment, "I'm an idiot? You are the one who lied. Rather than face me, tell me you remember what I said and just don't feel the same way, instead you spill your heart out to a suspect? I deserve better than that and you know it….Beck…" His rant ends in a coughing fit.

It suddenly clicks, all of it falling into place. Her mind recalling the day, putting the pieces together, he was there, heard the interrogation, her admittance in an attempt to get the suspect to talk, the lone cup of coffee left on her desk, his behavior the following days, weeks. _Shit, this isn't how he should have found out. I wasn't ready then, but I've made such a mess of things now, possibly ruining my one chance at happiness, our chance. _

He takes her silence as admittance. "It's ok, you can go, Beckett. You don't have to say anything. I'll be ok…in time. You can't help how you feel. I get it."

"Castle, I know this isn't the time for this conversation, but you have to let me explain. It's not what you think. I didn't know how to tell you. I just…. I just wasn't ready…"

"Beckett, stop. Just don't go there. You…you don't have to say it. I don't need your pity and I'm just too tired right now to hear the… the rejection and panic that I clearly recognize in your voice." His voice feathers off, back to an almost whisper near the end as he cautiously stokes his fingers across the angry red line encompassing his neck. She can hear he's fading out, knows he's in pain, in more ways than one, and she can't let him think for another moment she doesn't want him, doesn't feel the same way. The resignation in his voice, a white flag…he's giving up, his fight all but disintegrated.

A weary huff of air leaves her. "I've done this all wrong and I'm so sorry, but you don't understand, you've got it all backwards. It was a coping mechanism…the lie, a poor one maybe, but one nonetheless. I needed to repair myself, put myself back together with something more than tape and gauze, symptoms of PTSD and nightmares before I could attempt anything further. I was afraid of messing this up. I had to become a better person, a whole person…the person you deserve. I had to become deserving of you. I couldn't come to you a broken mess, a shell of the woman I should be. That's no way to start a relationship, a _real_ relationship, one I thought could be my one and done. I know it's too late now. I know I've ruined everything. In my attempt to prevent losing you I did just that, but for what it's worth… I do love you. For the second time, I'm in love with you and I feel like the bullet is ripping me apart all over again, knowing I've destroyed everything and missed my chance, our chance." The tears brimming in her eyes cause her voice to quiver by the end of what she feels is a poorly executed explanation. Words aren't her thing, they're his, but he has to understand. _Please let him understand._

He just stares as his ears take in her words, process and comprehend them. His eyes go as wide as the holes in his CIA theories as he searches her face, her body language, looking through her façade, searching for a crack, a fissure in her armor, anything indicating a falsity in her statement, but there's none to be seen as she stands before him confident, sure, with the exception of the faint glimpse of vulnerability shining in her eyes and it goes straight to his heart.

Little does he know, the confidence she's projecting _is_ her façade, behind it her entire being is teetering on the edge, about to crumble and fall head first into the abyss if he doesn't respond with something in the next five seconds. And he does…. thankfully he does.

His brow furrows as he tries to recall, think back to what she could possibly be referring. "Second time?"

Almost imperceptibly she replies, "Yea, you were a little out of it for the first confession."

"My God, Kate. You haven't missed your chance. It's not a switch I can just turn off. Just don't tell my mother she was right about that, but trying to get over you has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, unsuccessfully I might add. Haven't you ever heard the saying, _the heart wants what the heart wants_?"

The disquieted detective is washed away as her face splits into a radiant grin, so big all he can see is the white of her teeth and the love portrayed in her lustrous eyes. She's by his side in an instant, lips gently brushing his, mindful of his injuries as well as her own braced finger. "Then by all means, please stop trying to get over me. I love you so much, Castle."

"Not as much as I love you." A self-assured, but elated look on his face, the sparkle reclaiming its rightful position within his eyes is such a relief.

"Oh, I think I might have you beat there. I even shared my blood with you. Did you know we're the same blood type?"

A twinkle flashes in his baby blues as his lips turn upward into a teasing grin. "Does this mean I smell like cherries now?"

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**Share your thoughts and please review if you have the time.** **Otherwise, thanks so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the crazy ride.**


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